


rookie lover

by kwanureeves (outomaatti)



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, soft soft soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 05:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30134916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outomaatti/pseuds/kwanureeves
Summary: It had crept up on Chanhee ever so discreetly, settling into the little nooks of their friendship and slowly growing more prominent until it consumed him whole.
Relationships: Choi Chanhee | New/Kim Younghoon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57





	rookie lover

**Author's Note:**

> I have returned from my ao3 slumber with my first “getting together” fic yee to the haw
> 
> I did a fair amount of self-projection with this one to help, digging through my memories to remember these exact feelings; those which once were perceived unrequited and in time turned into mutual ones, as well as the myriad of emotions that followed with it. I also tried my hand at a more introspective and emotion-focused style here than what I’m used to writing, which was also fun :-)
> 
> on top of it all, this is my first bbangnyu fic, which I’m super giddy about bc I love love love them, the way they bicker 24/7 reminds me of feeling fully comfortable around a person so it def fueled the theme of this fic as well ❤️ hope you enjoy!

It’s easy to read Younghoon.

At least, that’s how Chanhee has always found it. He knows that judging by Younghoon’s habitus, not many can echo this statement, so Chanhee takes a little bit of pride in knowing his best friend inside and out. 

Chanhee can always tell if Younghoon's happy, sad, angry, disappointed; sometimes even before Younghoon recognizes the emotion himself. Chanhee can tell if Younghoon's genuinely enjoying the company of whatever people they're meeting, or if he'd rather go home as soon as possible.

Many would describe Younghoon as looking perpetually pensive, but Chanhee can discern at least three different furrows of Younghoon’s brow: one for deep thought and deciphering, one for distress and annoyance, and one for when he tries out a dish for the first time, meticulously figuring out the texture and flavor profile of the first mouthful.

There’s one more, though; one that is reserved exclusively for Chanhee.

It’s one of unwavering concentration, when Younghoon listens to Chanhee go off on a topic he’s passionate about, when Younghoon reaches forward to sweep a crumb off the corner of Chanhee’s mouth with the pad of his thumb when they eat together. It’s one of empathetic exasperation, when Chanhee shares any bad news with him. It’s one of quiet care, when Younghoon navigates the two of them through a crowded train station, gently guiding Chanhee with a hand around his shoulder or his waist lest someone bump into him.

It had never been a question of any nonverbal messages, ones that lingered between them until their ambiguity became too heavy to handle. Chanhee had never felt the need to try and decipher anything Younghoon does or says to him. Younghoon's an open book for the most part, and before long, Chanhee had slowly found himself fully consumed by his pages, never willing to set him down for longer than a day, wishing to be part of his story as much as realistically possible.

* * *

It’s easy to love Younghoon.

Younghoon, with whom he can exist fully at ease. Younghoon, who knows all of Chanhee’s highs and lows, bickers with him with a light heart until the world’s end, and makes Chanhee laugh so hard his abdominal muscles ache and his lungs struggle for air.

Younghoon, who is there when the bad days hit Chanhee the hardest. Younghoon, who pulls Chanhee into his arms, inhaling and exhaling deeply to help Chanhee steady his breaths through the thick curtain of tears, Younghoon’s lips ghosting over Chanhee’s cheek as he whispers soothing affirmations into Chanhee’s skin. Once Chanhee resurfaces, his limbs are slack after the anxiety has released his muscles from its death grip, and his burnt out mind hardly recalls any details from the past half hour. What remains etched into his memory however, clear as day, is the warmth of Younghoon’s arms around him, Younghoon’s lips at the side of his face.

Younghoon, who is the grounding warmth against Chanhee’s side whenever they sit beside each other. Younghoon, who looks at him with so much fondness and care that Chanhee’s heart breaks and mends itself at equal speeds; never at an equilibrium, never fully satisfied.

Younghoon, who has not even once denied Chanhee affection. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Younghoon, who responds to each of Chanhee’s touches with his own, unprompted and instantaneous like it’s second nature, like they exist in tandem. Chanhee patting Younghoon’s shoulder to get his attention and Younghoon’s hand reaching up to curl over Chanhee’s elbow in a silent reply; Chanhee leaning his head into Younghoon’s chest and Younghoon’s arms circling around him, his head resting atop Chanhee’s. 

It feels like a confirmation of something Chanhee cannot put his finger on. Like a wordless acknowledgement of Chanhee’s presence, his movements, his responses. Chanhee sometimes scolds himself, convincing that he’s putting too much emphasis on it; that all of Younghoon’s touches, words, actions directed towards him are purely platonic. And sometimes Chanhee indulges himself, letting himself enjoy the touches for what they are, instead of figments of what could be.

Then again, there’s no harm, right?

* * *

It’s easy to fall for Younghoon.

The way his stoic features light up like rays of sunlight when Chanhee surprises him with his favorite cheesecake after a convenience store run. The way his face splits into a wide, toothy grin when Chanhee, the culinary enthusiast, compliments his cooking. The way Chanhee can lean his head on Younghoon’s shoulder when they’re on the train and take a half-nap and trust that Younghoon will tap him on the arm when they’re approaching their stop.

By no means had the attraction been there by default. More so, it had crept up on Chanhee ever so discreetly, settling into the little nooks of their friendship, and slowly growing more prominent until it consumed him whole. Chanhee has no idea how he’s managed to keep himself intact thus far, haphazardly stapled and Elmer’s glued together to keep himself from melting into a puddle at Younghoon’s mercy.

* * *

They’re sprawled out on Chanhee’s twin bed in his dorm room one night, watching TikTok videos on Younghoon’s phone. Chanhee is nestled comfily into the junction of Younghoon’s arm and shoulder, peering at the phone screen resting on Younghoon’s tummy.

Younghoon feels almost impossibly warm against him. There’s a good reason why Chanhee once nicknamed him ‘human furnace’ once. Conversely, Younghoon named Chanhee ’leech’ for always clinging to Younghoon under the covers and sticking his ice-cold feet in between Younghoon’s, making him screech and squirm and complain about Chanhee not using socks to warm up his feet properly.

Younghoon flicks his thumb across the screen as one clip comes to its end, prompting a new one to start. Younghoon’s free hand is curled around Chanhee’s shoulder, a tender weight keeping Chanhee in place almost like a preemptive measure, just in case his heart decides to burst out of his seams.

At certain points, Younghoon would laugh at a funny clip, the low sound rumbling through his ribcage and reverberating against Chanhee’s body, providing him a somewhat peculiar sense of comfort, of home.

”Wait,” Chanhee pipes up just as Younghoon swipes past a video. ”Send that one to me.” It’s a video of someone explaining the love language theory, a concept which has recently intrigued Chanhee a fair amount.

”You haven’t even seen it in full yet,” Younghoon murmurs as he reverses the motion, prompting the clip to replay. He taps and holds the screen and presses on the little circle with Chanhee’s face on it, sending it off into the ether.

”I know,” Chanhee replies matter-of-factly as Younghoon taps on the screen once, pausing the clip to listen to Chanhee speak. ”I’ll watch it later on my phone,” he concludes.

”We can watch it now too, though.” Younghoon’s voice is laced with curiosity.

”No _ooo_ ,” Chanhee whines, his stubbornness peeking out of its hideaway. If he’s decided on watching it by himself, he shall watch it by himself.

”I’m already watching it!” Younghoon declares between chuckles, letting the clip roll as Chanhee groans and buries his face into Younghoon’s shirt.

”How can someone be so stubborn?” Chanhee huffs in feigned exasperation, knowing full well that Younghoon’s going to counteract with calling Chanhee out on his respective stubbornness, which is an entirely valid remark.

And Younghoon delivers. An equally exaggerated, ”Yah! Says you!” tumbles off his lips as he beams at Chanhee, his eyes crinkling upwards. ”What’s a love language, by the way?”

”It’s— I said _send it to me later_ ,” Chanhee groans, his tone tapering out at the end into an unspoken _please don’t make me spend my energy on explaining it_.

”Tell me _ee_ ,” Younghoon says with a big pout, wiggling his limbs like an upset toddler reacting to being told no, the demonstration equal parts annoying and adorable. He'd originally picked it up from Jaehyun, and Chanhee often finds himself amused by the gesture whenever it's done by Younghoon, mostly because where Jaehyun sulks and waits for it to take effect, Younghoon does so mainly pro forma and then just powers through with crystal clear bullheadedness.

”You can check out the uploader’s account. I’m sure they have some videos where they break it down.”

”But I want to hear you explain it.”

Now Younghoon’s looking at him all doe-eyed and pleading. And Chanhee does. He explains the gist of it, and Younghoon listens intently, and after a moment of introspection Younghoon concludes that his giving love language is acts of service, his receiving is quality time, and that physical touch applies to both.

”I thought as much,” is the reply he receives from Chanhee, who can easily connect the dots between Younghoon’s self-perceived preferences of giving and receiving love with the way he showcases his affection in practice.

”What’re yours, then?” Younghoon asks.

”Receiving is acts of service, giving is quality time and gifts.” Chanhee replies with ease, a tiny smile dancing on his features at the way their chosen love languages are pretty much complementary, like two halves of a whole.

”You’ve really studied these, huh,” Younghoon admits, sounding genuinely impressed.

”I find them interesting. I think they tell so much more about a person than what you’d initially expect, or what you'd get from generic personality tests.”

”Actually, now that I think about it, I like how you always turn up with something small. Like snacks. I didn’t know it was your love language.”

Younghoon's eyes twinkle with a way Chanhee can't exactly put his finger on, and Chanhee feels his ears burn at the sudden compliment.

”What about physical touch?” Younghoon continues.

”It’s not that high up on my priority list, but with certain people it sort of comes naturally, so I find myself enjoying it a lot more. Depends on the person, though, obviously," Chanhee replies calmly, schooling his features to ignore the way his mind feeds him a hundred instances of his heart swelling whenever Younghoon touches him.

”I must be special, then, with the way you let me practically cling to you twenty-four-seven,” Younghoon snickers, snaking his arms around Chanhee’s shoulders.

”Don’t try your luck. Who knows if I suddenly develop an aversion to it.”

”Sure you will.” Younghoon just squeezes him tighter, and Chanhee lets him.

Afterwards, they scroll the app mindlessly for another good while before Chanhee tires, hopping off the bed and sauntering over to the TV to turn it on. He’s halfway through Rookie Historian and the previous episode ended on such a cliffhanger that he had goaded Younghoon into watching at least the next one with him.

They sit with their backs against the headboard, nestled close to each other with their sides touching. Younghoon goes through a battery of questions throughout the episode, much like anyone else who hasn’t watched a show from the very beginning would, and Chanhee answers them dutifully. 

Chanhee’s favorite thing to do while watching the show is to focus on the dialogue between Goo Hae-ryung and the prince; observing their minute exchanges, lingering looks and smiles. It’s so subtle, yet tells all there is to know about their feelings for each other. Everyone notices it, everyone except the two. Chanhee’s heart aches.

”What’s it like for you, loving someone?” Chanhee blurts without thinking, immersed in the moment.

“Hmm.” Younghoon’s brows knit together in one of his signature expressions. His forehead creases a little, and Chanhee kind of wants to reach up and smooth it out with his fingers.

“That’s a good question, actually,” Younghoon says after a good half minute, but Chanhee knows better than that. He knows it’s to buy Younghoon more time to answer properly. ”I guess… just making sure they feel loved?”

”Isn’t that kind of the point of loving?” Chanhee teases, all while trying his hardest to keep his mind from roaming around the million different ways Younghoon makes him feel loved.

”You know what I mean!” Younghoon croaks exasperatedly. 

Chanhee does. He lets out a sharp breath through his nose to mask it.

“Okay, so, like—” Younghoon raises his hand to begin listing with his fingers. “Talking with them about anything. Supporting them through whatever comes their way.”

Which is everything Younghoon does for Chanhee, word for word. Chanhee’s heart sinks to the bottom of a thousand oceans. He realizes what he feels is _greed_. He feels so loved by Younghoon and, all the while, Chanhee feels so greedy for wanting more.

His mind suffers the reprimands of his heart. Is the Younghoon he has right now not enough for him? What else— no, what _more_ could he possibly want?

“Getting to hug and kiss them.”

With that, Chanhee feels like he’s being set on fire.

Younghoon cranes his neck a little to look at Chanhee, and he looks like he’s going to forward Chanhee’s initial question back to him. Chanhee dreads it. Younghoon’s going to ask, and he’s going to see right through Chanhee, and he’s going know the answer straight away, and Chanhee will be done for.

“What about you?”

”Me?”

”Yes, you.”

_For me, it’s what loving you feels like._

”Well, uh—”

Younghoon bursts into a chuckle. ”Did you not think of your answer before you asked me?”

”Piss off.”

”Alright, alright. Truce.”

Chanhee goes silent, his mouth pursed shut. He doesn’t want to open it, in fear of his heart rising up his throat and floating away, like a balloon taking off in the wind when one releases the string tied to it.

”Chanhee.”

”Mm.”

”You’re doing it again.”

”I know.”

”We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

”No, it’s okay,” Chanhee says, shaking off his panic the best he can. “I asked the question first, after all.”

Younghoon is so considerate of him. He picks up the change in Chanhee’s facial expression, his tone of voice, and doesn’t pry further, offering Chanhee space to pull away or step forward. 

”For me— um, for me it’s the same as for you, I think. You worded it well.” Chanhee then purses his lips together again.

Younghoon’s voice is low when he says, ”There’s a _but_ in there somewhere.”

”But,” Chanhee chuckles. “I want to know how you look at different types of love. Like, how you differentiate the love for a friend between, um— between love for someone else.”

“Someone else as in—?”

”Well, you know. A partner, a lover.”

“Couldn’t a partner or a lover also be a friend at the same time, though?” Younghoon asks, the question more rhetorical than direct. “I reckon it would be a lot easier to spend time with them.”

Chanhee nods in agreement, his mind now wandering too much for him to form a coherent response.

“Actually, that reminds me,” Younghoon continues. “Y’know how people use the phrase ’more than friends’ to describe lovers?”

“Yeah?” 

“I never liked that.”

“Oh.” 

“I think it implies that friendship is more like a—” Younghoon snaps his fingers a few times, as if trying to materialize a certain word off the tip of his tongue. “Like a stepping stone to romantic love, kind of. Like being friends is somehow less than. Obviously it’s _not_ less than, right?”

”...Right.”

_For me, being your friend has given me more than any romantic love could in my lifetime._

”It’s just— a different kind of love. That’s all there is to it. That’s how I find it, at least.” Younghoon crosses his arms in front of his chest, focusing his eyes on the TV screen, his brow familiarly furrowed as if he’s introspectively digesting the topic at hand.

“I guess you’re right.”

_He’s absolutely right._

“Then again,” Chanhee continues, ”you wouldn’t hug and kiss your friends the same way you would kiss your lover, right?” The little laugh he lets out at the end aims to soften up the question, but he's not sure if it’s entirely successful. He hopes Younghoon doesn’t take it as a loaded question.

“I hug and kiss you, though, don’t I?” Younghoon replies in the calmest, most nonchalant tone, his eyes never leaving the screen.

_You do. And I can’t even begin to explain how it makes me feel whenever you do._

Normally, this is where Chanhee would start to get a bit annoyed because Younghoon doesn’t seem to catch his drift. At this moment, however, Chanhee feels like he’s playing Minesweeper. The same gut-wrenching adrenaline courses through his body as he skirts the edges of his and Younghoon’s words and expressions, fearful of setting off a figurative mine.

“Well, yeah, but not like that.” Chanhee tries his hardest to keep his intonation flat, but still ends up emphasizing the last word a bit too strongly for his liking. 

Just like in Minesweeper, Chanhee tries his best to navigate through this conversation (and giving a big fat middle finger at past Chanhee for even bringing up the topic) without setting off anything that would require cleanup and potentially futile explanations afterwards. 

Yet, Chanhee feels like no amount of preemptive measures would be of help right now. This conversation could virtually go anywhere.

”Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong,” Younghoon starts, ”but does that mean you’d like me to?”

That simple eight-word sentence is enough to freeze Chanhee in his tracks. He raises his eyes to Younghoon’s, feeling like he’s just struck a mine. A mine that doesn’t go off, at least not for now. The air is suddenly heavy between the two, and Chanhee feels like he’s suffocating.

”I—”

Younghoon’s looking directly at him now, and all Chanhee wants right now is to shrink and disappear.

“I-I mean— would you?” Chanhee manages, still in disbelief that he’s not just hallucinating one of the thousand scenarios he’s conjured up in his head over the years.

A second passes by, but for Chanhee it feels like three hours, and he swears time is lying to him. He lowers his eyes, not daring to meet Younghoon’s gaze, lest the mine explode in his face if he does.

“Well, can I?” asks a voice so gentle.

Chanhee’s eyes snap back up, and Younghoon is there, he’s still there. His eyes look vulnerable, moving over Chanhee’s face as if searching for an answer, as if it's tucked away behind Chanhee’s ear, at the corner of his eye, at the tip of his nose.

Chanhee nods, albeit a little shakily.

”Only if it’s something you want,” Younghoon says quietly.

There it is, the side of Younghoon that so few people get to experience firsthand. The Younghoon that is so careful and so loving and so featherlight. Chanhee can _feel_ Younghoon’s words on his skin.

”Silly. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Chanhee says, a little raspy but with a small smile. A giggle bubbles up from his throat, relief mixed with the remnants of panic.

”Okay.” Younghoon mirrors the giggle low in his throat, and the sound alone brings Chanhee so much joy. ”If you’re sure about it.”

Younghoon’s mouth might be laughing, but his gaze is still restless upon Chanhee’s features, as if seeking a silent cue, a wordless affirmation, a reassuring touch, anything. His face is so close, too, and Chanhee is suddenly hyperaware of their proximity. They’re no strangers to physical contact by any means, yet in this moment it feels so foreign.

Younghoon’s eyes are so big, so sincere in their emotion, and he looks just the slightest bit concerned as his eyes dart around Chanhee’s face. Just like Chanhee, Younghoon is clearly treading unknown waters himself, yet still keeps watch on Chanhee’s comfort and consent. It brings Chanhee a certain courage, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, he might not be the only one feeling this way after all. His throat feels a fraction less tight, and finally, he speaks.

Ever so slow, Chanhee fits his hand against the side of Younghoon’s face, rubbing his thumb over the soft plush of Younghoon’s cheek to mask the way his hand trembles like a leaf in the wind. Younghoon’s eyes lid shut at the contact, and he looks so beautiful in the golden lamplight, shadows dancing on his skin as he moves. His eyes open back up, trained on Chanhee’s lips, and Chanhee feels like his heart is being squeezed by ropes. 

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening right now. Or, even if it is real, it’s all but a ruse: Younghoon’s going to say _sike_ , he’s going to pull back and make a retching gesture at Chanhee, and he’s going to storm out of Chanhee’s room never to see or speak to him again. 

”You’re sure about this,” Younghoon says in a near-whisper, and it’s more of a confirmation than a question. They’re so close now that their breaths mingle, which combined with Younghoon’s words snaps Chanhee out of his rapidly spinning circle of denial. Like someone had pulled the plug on the dryer drum mangling his emotions at full force and speed, gradually having it slow and stop.

”I am.”

With one shaky but fluid motion, he guides Younghoon’s face with his hand on his cheek, and gently catches Younghoon’s lips between his.

The initial touch is barely there, and Chanhee keeps perfectly still, giving Younghoon a final out, a small pocket of time and space to pull away. Yet, Younghoon kisses back with zero delay, pressing forward as his lips slant against Chanhee’s at a new angle, soft and exploring. As if on cue, the coil around Chanhee’s heart unravels, the constricting strings dissolving into sweet relief that settles warm beneath his skin.

With his inhibitions no longer weighing him down, Chanhee lets himself melt into the kiss. His shoulders drop from having been so tensed up until now, and the way they haven’t totally cut off the oxygen supply to his head is, quite frankly, astonishing.

Younghoon kisses Chanhee’s lips like he kisses the back of Chanhee’s hand, the top of his head, his forehead, his shoulder. So, _so_ gentle, and with a certain reverence that makes Chanhee’s entire body shiver. Younghoon kisses Chanhee almost as if he’s always wanted to kiss Chanhee, and the mere thought of it makes the inside of Chanhee’s nose burn with tears.

Someone rustles in the hallway outside Chanhee’s room—probably one of his roommates. Over on the TV, the historians are sharing a drink with the other clerks and prince Dowon, who is disguised as a clerk for the Office of Royal Decrees. All Chanhee can hear, however, is his heart thrumming in his ears, the sound of his and Younghoon’s shared breaths and their lips moving against each other.

Younghoon’s hand comes up to rest against Chanhee’s side, fingers splayed over his ribs, and Chanhee feels like pure warmth seeps into his body just from Younghoon’s touch. Finally feeling courageous enough, Chanhee reaches up, threading his fingers into Younghoon’s hair and relishing in the fluffy, silky texture contrasting the freshly touched-up buzz of his undercut. He’s just so unbelievably _soft_ all over, and Chanhee unwittingly sighs into their kiss. Younghoon presses closer at that, and it’s like clockwork, it’s exactly like they always move around each other, existing in tandem.

Younghoon breathes out steadily through his nose as he holds Chanhee by his waist, gentle and chaste, like Chanhee’s going to shatter into a thousand pieces, like he’s going to evaporate into thin air. Chanhee aches to let him know that he’s not going anywhere. So, Chanhee breaks their kiss to sit up into a kneeling position, fueling his desire to have Younghoon closer, closer still.

Younghoon watches Chanhee through half-lidded eyes, one hand sweeping up the small of Chanhee’s back and pulling him in, while the other comes up behind Chanhee’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. Chanhee’s hands bracket the sides of Younghoon’s face right before he dives back in, kissing Younghoon like he last kissed Younghoon a full decade ago instead of a mere ten seconds.

As they get more and more acquainted with each other’s lips, Younghoon’s kisses grow firm and confident yet remain close-mouthed, as if not daring to stray further, not without a go-ahead from Chanhee’s side. Chanhee tilts his head slightly to deepen their kiss, tentatively prodding the tip of his tongue against the seam of Younghoon’s lips. Younghoon opens his mouth for Chanhee instantly, like a lock under a perfectly fitting key, like a flower that blooms by touch alone.

Younghoon wraps his arms tighter around Chanhee’s back as his tongue meets Chanhee’s a tad more boldly than just now. The slide is slow and heady, and the wet sounds echoing around the room feel like their volume runs in double. Chanhee’s head is swimming, his senses are heightened, and everything feels somehow forbidden yet so intoxicating. Slowly, Younghoon runs his tongue over the plush of Chanhee’s lower lip, and Chanhee resists the little sound of delight that bubbles up his throat.

Chanhee pulls back to catch his breath for a moment, resting his forehead against Younghoon’s. He moves to kiss Younghoon’s mole next to the corner of his mouth, then the tiny scar above it, and then he pecks Younghoon’s mouth again, right on the plump part of his lower lip. Younghoon makes a small sound in response, low in his throat and partly muffled by Chanhee’s lips, but it’s enough for Chanhee to etch it into the side of his heart forever. Younghoon leans in to fit their mouths together again, heavy and open-mouthed and perfect, and Chanhee feels downright dizzy with the surge of happiness that he had been so reluctant to grasp at, yet when encouraged to reach up it settled snug onto his heart like it was always supposed to be there.

When they finally break apart, Chanhee’s lips burn like he’s been kissing at fire. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but at this point he’s given up on following time, much less even picture who he was before he was kissing Younghoon. A part of him wants to continue, to touch and to explore and to map out, but he also knows that having this grow too heated too fast may not be the best idea. He files the thought for later, though, for when it’s time, and raises his eyes back to Younghoon’s.

And Younghoon is so, so beautiful.

”How do you feel?” Younghoon whispers, so quiet that Chanhee partly reads the question off his lips.

Chanhee opens his mouth, closes it, realizes he’s probably looking like a fish gasping for air, and bursts into a giggle.

”I— I’m really happy that happened.”

Younghoon laughs, full-bodied and with a big toothy grin, and it seems more out of relief than anything else. ”Me too,” he says, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Chanhee’s.

Chanhee tunes into the sounds coming from the TV for the first time in a good minute, and is met with the rolling credits and the sneak preview of the next episode.

”Agh! We missed it! The episode!” he exclaims, sitting up so abruptly he ends up bumping Younghoon’s forehead with his own along the way.

Younghoon responds with a pained noise, casting a glance at Chanhee with his lower lip slightly jutting out while he rubs at his forehead.

”Sorry,” Chanhee says, reflexively reaching up and tenderly cradling Younghoon’s face in his hands as he drops a kiss against Younghoon’s forehead.

When he pulls back, Younghoon is looking at his lips. ”I— um.” Chanhee clears his throat, reflexively flitting his tongue across his bottom lip. “Did you wanna keep going?”

”No— I mean, yeah. Yes. But we don’t have to right now, if you’re not feeling like it.”

”Yeah, no, um.” Chanhee feels like the last of his verbal abilities disappeared as soon as he’d kissed Younghoon. “Later?”

Younghoon’s gentle laughter fills Chanhee’s ears, and Chanhee basks in the warmth of the sound.

”Later’s good,” Younghoon says, his mouth curving into a relaxed smile.

”Stay the night?” Chanhee asks, his eyes hopeful.

Younghoon nods.

”I have a Zoom lecture in the morning. You can sleep in, though. I’ll try to be quiet.”

“No worries. I’ll try not to snore too loud,” Younghoon chuckles. 

”I’ll smack you with my textbook if you do.”

”Ah, the royal awakening.”

Younghoon throws his arms up and stretches out, accompanied with a scrunched face and a little high-pitched squeak that always feels so out of place when looking at his build yet at the same time is just so characteristically Younghoon. He scoots down the bed until he’s horizontal, and comically grins up at Chanhee, at which Chanhee laughs fondly.

It’s easy to love Younghoon. And, all the while, it’s easy to feel loved by Younghoon, too.

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't yet been presented with a sign to watch rookie historian, this is it
> 
> always feel free to come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kwanureeves) ❣️ also comments feed my heart and soul so do let me know what you thought of this lil piece!


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